This Matters to Me: Caught between two worlds

Recently I've curtailed the amount of time spent watching cable news. With frightening world events, dire economic forecasts and anxiety about health care, retreat has become a preferred strategy. Usually, my attention turns to sports with the Red Sox and Bruins offering varying degrees of comfort. But lately athletic contests have not provided sufficient distraction.

Recently I’ve curtailed the amount of time spent watching cable news. With frightening world events, dire economic forecasts and anxiety about health care, retreat has become a preferred strategy. Usually, my attention turns to sports with the Red Sox and Bruins offering varying degrees of comfort. But lately athletic contests have not provided sufficient distraction.

As someone who has been known to reminisce about the past, I frequently look backward while simultaneously trying to manage the needs of the present. Yearning for the days of black and white television with three channels and no remote, I sit in my easy chair, surfing, clicking and viewing hundreds of stations. Fond memories of black table telephones with rotary dials and party lines, conflict with the beep on that newly purchased iPhone. Clearly I’m a man caught between two worlds.

Television watching has turned me toward programs once popular in the ‘50s or ‘60s. My most favored involve idyllic family sitcoms which feature close, uncluttered kin folk, managing to muddle through the problems of everyday life during a more simple time. Three of my favorites are “Leave it to Beaver,” “The Donna Reed Show” and “The Rifleman.”

The differences portrayed between then and now are striking.

The other day, poor Beaver and Wally had to cope with a rainy weekend and a TV set whose picture tube had exploded. Ward Cleaver, the ever-patient father, gives them a book to read (Tom Sawyer). When the sun comes out, June sends her children “outside to play.” That would not happen today. Children have scheduled soccer matches and a variety of entertainment options, none of which involve going out to play. The Internet seldom goes down, and kids can text friends using their iPhones. If all else fails, they can always induce parental guilt so that Mom and Dad will manufacture something for them to do.

Donna Reed (Mrs. Stone in the sitcom) makes her family a hearty breakfast every morning, impeccably attired, and coiffed. At the kitchen table, they discuss the upcoming day. Dr. Stone, a pediatrician, has to make house calls. (House calls?) He discusses difficult cases with his wife and children. That would surely be a violation of privacy rights today, would it not?

Lucas McCain, the rifleman, is a single father raising son Mark somewhere in the West. Mark enjoys a life consisting of doing chores, going to school, bringing in firewood, helping to make dinner and going to sleep. Along the way he rides horses and finds excitement wherever it presents itself. He seldom is found playing with other children because there are few in the neighborhood. He and his Dad are inseparable. This does not resemble the life of any child I know.

Page 2 of 2 - Later, I might go on the computer and log into Facebook. One Facebook page is known as GUIFR, Grew Up In Fall River. Here can be viewed pictures of Fall River’s past. A video was recently posted of the old city hall demolition. Regular followers describe memories of extinct movie theaters and restaurants. In cyberspace, we followers share an instant emotional connection.

Recently, I poked fun at youngsters who socialized through their iPhones. Watching a few teens sitting together in a restaurant, I marveled as they texted each other, without looking up or engaging in conversation. At a Durfee basketball game, I witnessed many fans taking videos of the exciting court action. This confused me. How could people become more immersed in a virtual world while missing out on the actual events that were happening in real time? This would never happen to people from my generation.

I was arrogantly content with my old cell phone which, when flipped open, resembled a Star Trek communicator. As long as I could dial 911 in case of an unexpected emergency, I was perfectly content. Then one day Verizon made me an offer I couldn’t refuse and offered me a new Apple 5C iPhone with all the accompanying bells and whistles. Succumbing to the cajoling of my grandchildren, I relented.

Soon I was texting, checking e-mail, surfing the web and snapping pictures. One day, while watching my grandson play basketball, I started to video the action. Zeroing in on the boy, I got a great shot of him passing the ball, but missed the part where another player hit a three-pointer after receiving the pass. The camera caught the official’s arms going up indicating the successful shot, but not the ball going through the hoop.

By paying closer attention to my phone than to the action, I had officially become one of them; morphing into the teenagers who lived vicariously through their devices. It was becoming addictive.

Somewhere there is a lesson for those like me. The past is comforting, and memories endearing. The present is different in ways both good and bad. One must find a balance in order to appreciate each moment as it occurs in real life. Perhaps it is possible to make peace between both worlds.

Edward Costar is a retired Fall River educator and an occasional contributor to these pages.